Tempted By Her Rescuer: Brotherhood Protectors World

by Christine Glover

  “My agency will cover the costs.”

  “Ben Lawson is more than your commander, he’s my friend and Ethan’s brother-in-law.” Hank held up a hand to stop any argument. “Consider this a favor. If you need any additional equipment, give me the heads up and we’ll make sure you get the supplies pronto.”

  “Thanks.” The hairs on the back of his neck raised and Brent turned toward the three women sitting in the great room. If looks could kill, those three sets of eyes had definitely speared him. “Better get going. Reagan’s exhausted and there are more shows to film before the new year.”

  “Sleigh ride segment staying on the agenda?” Hank asked.

  “Affirmative. Not that I’m happy about it, but we’re sticking to the game plan. I want to draw out the bastard who’s after her.” Brent flexed his fingers, then fisted them. “Can’t do that if we wrap her in bubble wrap.”

  “She tell you that?” Ethan asked with a hint of humor in his voice.

  “In a nutshell. Woman’s too stubborn for her own good.”

  “She’s in good company,” Hank said. “And if she’s as strong as our wives, then you’ve got the best person to support your effort to catch the person fucking with her life.”

  A slight heaviness settled in his chest. A part of Brent wanted to ask the men standing next to him how they’d survived the experience of having the women they loved in jeopardy. Another ping of pain hit him behind the breastbone. Had he gone and fallen in love with Reagan? Too soon to tell. Still, where could all lead if he acted on the emotion connection he’d experienced with her? Been 100% honest before he’d slept with her too?

  Where the brotherhood protectors were concerned, their answers were given by the lives they led today. Each had become husbands, happily married, with babies, children. Families filled with love and acceptance. And running their ongoing business of protecting the innocent, stopping crimes and more.

  “We’ve got a cover story for the next week. Figured we already hooked up once, so everyone still thinks we’re dating.” Fake dating instead of the real thing, but the best way to make his constant presence in her world believable now. Once again, the idea of leaving the off-site investigating to the agents in the field ate at his gut, but his hands were tied.

  Still, now he wondered again if he could have had everything the men standing next to him had today with Reagan if he hadn’t completely screwed up his chance to have her in his life on a permanent basis? From the flash of fire he saw in her blue eyes before she looked away, he doubted he’d ever have another opportunity to prove himself to her.

  “You got it bad,” Ethan said softly, cutting into Brent’s jumbling, confusing thoughts.

  “Yeah, but I fucked up.”

  “Give her time. She’ll come around.”

  “No. I don’t think she will,” Brent said. “She went through hell after her husband died. Now she doubts everything that happened between us before I had to tell her the truth.”

  “Whoa. You did blow it.”

  Brent scraped his fingers through his hair. “Royally.”

  “We’ve been there,” Ethan said. “Just hang in and you’ll figure out how to get through to her.”

  “Right now I’m focusing on protecting her. Period.” And alive. How to reach past her guard… how to show Reagan he wanted to see where the heat and the fire flaring between them would lead would have to wait.

  But time was running out. Not only would the filming wrap up in less than a week which would mean her returning home, someone out there wanted her out of the way before she caught that flight out of Bozeman. If that person didn’t succeed, her life was in jeopardy. Then he’d lose… fuck. He’d lose the only woman he wanted to have a chance at a normal life again.

  At least one where a family didn’t disintegrate when the glue holding the fabric together evaporated. Trusting Reagan to stick, to be that person, meant trusting her with more than he’d been willing to give to others in the past.

  He’d forgotten how to be the kind of person who could give himself 100 percent to another. But Reagan had unlocked something deep in him. And he didn’t want to let her go.

  Chapter 11

  The sun’s waning rays danced color on the horizon, decorating the sky with brilliant oranges and hues of pink onto the whisper thin clouds. Reagan shivered as the air grew colder in the early evening hour and yet she kept herself away from Brent’s comforting heat, choosing to sit opposite him on the sleigh. No way would she give her hormones a chance to override her resolve to let this fledgling relationship fly out of her brain. The stakes were too high for both of them.

  Eric carried a stash of brightly colored blankets in hues of red, green, purples and golds to the sleigh and loaded them inside. “Here,” he said. “These should keep everyone warm while we ride out to the ranch’s bonfire location.”

  “Thanks.” Reagan reached for one and accidentally brushed Brent’s gloved hand. A jolt of electricity, intense awareness, zipped through her. Not good. Not good at all. “I’ve got this.” She gripped the blanket and scooted to the front of the sleigh, then wrapped the folds around her.

  A team of draft horses had already been hitched to the front and the driver sat in front on a special platform. Behind her, Cooking Thyme’s film crew rode in a flatbed truck to get the footage. Today wouldn’t be completely live. The sleigh ride would be spliced in before they uploaded the show to the At Home Network channel.

  The driver called to the horses, a merry jingle of bells chimed in tandem with his orders to giddy up. The sleigh pitched into motion and she tucked the gold blanket around her legs, hunkering down while trying to look like she actually enjoyed the frosty, cold weather as they skimmed over the packed snow trail.

  “Smile,” Angela called. “And snuggle in with that handsome guy. It’ll make the audience wonder about your relationship.”

  Her muscles tensed, knotted at the base of her neck. She tugged her scarf and squeezed the ends. The last person she wanted to snuggle in with was Brent. But she didn’t have a choice. Their entire set up to drive out the person who’d been stalking her meant staying together. Something she couldn’t allow to sway her determination to keep her distance.

  She pasted a not-so-fake smile onto her face as Brent shifted to her side of the sleigh and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. The scent of leather and man wafted around her and her mouth watered despite her internal resolve to keep him at mental arm’s length.

  But her hyperactive hormones continued to betray her in all the wrong ways. Sighing inwardly, she allowed herself to take advantage of his hot, sexy as sin body.

  “Perfect,” her director called from the truck. “Okay, let’s get some wide angle shots of the sleigh as it glides over the snow, then we’ll cut to the bonfire cookout.”

  “Sounds good.” She searched the area whizzing by them. “Do you see anything out of the ordinary?”

  “No. Doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there waiting to hurt you,” he said, tightening his grip.

  She could hear Brent’s steady breathing as they rode over the trail. His calm demeanor gave her a measure of peace of mind. Oh, how she wished the circumstances bringing them together had been different. But even then… if wishes were horses, she’d have an entire stable. “I just want this to be over.” And for Brent to go back to his life so she could resume hers.

  After riding for an hour without incident, they arrived at the ranch’s bonfire site. Night had completely fallen, but the bonfire’s flames and the candles flickering in strategic places all around the circle of Adirondack chairs and logs and rustic, tree core topped tables lit the space.

  “The prep station’s ready,” Eric said when he reached the sleigh. “You’ve got everything you need to make your perfect campfire meal.”

  Reagan took her assistant’s gloved hand and exited the sleigh as Brent hopped out to stand beside her. She made her way to the long table located behind a row of chairs and tables. A hol
iday linen cloth with a festive poinsettia and silver bell print covered the length. Her breath bottled in her lungs. The decorative fabric reminded her too much about the oversized poinsettia Brent had given her two days earlier as part of his so-called apology.

  Focus on the meal, not the man. Period. Nothing else matters. And don’t think about who might be out there trying to do God knows what. She moved past the long branches that had been carved into points to spear marshmallows for the traditional s’mores and over to the oranges. Most had already been prepped by the show’s staff, but she’d get filmed while she completed cutting off the tops and hollowing the pulp out before she inserted the chocolate, marshmallows and, in some, Grand Marnier.

  “You did a great job laying out the sequence of food we’re using today,” she said to her assistant.

  “Thanks,” Eric said, pouring hot spiced cider into mugs, then adding cinnamon sticks to them. “Here. This’ll keep you warm.”

  “So will the studio lights.” The heat radiating from the equipment made the temperature comfortable enough to take off her gloves before she clasped the mug.

  She glanced toward the two men who’d ridden to the site with her crew. They’d positioned themselves on opposite sides of the perimeter while Brent continued to stay up close and personal with her. Though the men had behaved like tourists on a vacation and excited to see the show, she understood their role as additional security.

  She gritted her teeth, forced herself to drink the aromatic cider to calm herself. How did A-list celebrities deal with the constant presence of other people around them? She didn’t mind being with her crew, but this additional security made her skin crawl. She felt like a tiny ant under a microscope.

  She shook off the thought, turning her attention toward the audience that had arrived in other sleighs and on snowmobiles.

  “Okay, let’s get this party started,” her director said, then Angela turned to Eric and passed him a clipboard. “I want you to takeover filming after the second commercial break.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course,” she said. “You did an excellent job while I recuperated from the crash. You deserve to do more than pour cider and give people their scripts.”

  “Thanks. I promise I won’t screw this up,” Eric said, his grin beaming so bright, the lights reflected off his teeth.

  “Brent, we’ll want you front and center for the tasting,” Angela continued.

  “Can’t wait,” he said.

  His voice, deep and as panty melting as ever sent tingles through her. She willed the instant attraction to the sensual sound, one she’d heard throughout an entire night of wild, crazy sexy times, back into the do-not-go-there-zone.

  “All right.” She pointed to one of the Adirondack chairs placed around the bonfire pit. “Take a seat and we’ll get started.”

  He didn’t go to where she indicated. Instead, he walked his way too hot ass to the opposite side of the table. “I’ll stand here so I can get first bites of everything.”

  And so he could continue guarding her while pretending he didn’t want her anymore. “Fine. Do it your way,” she said, then she welcomed the rest of her audience to the makeshift set. Reagan transformed into show host and went about preparing her holiday campfire meal for the mixture of people drawn from the ranch’s guests and employees.

  While she prepped, cooked and chatted with the audience, the bonfire’s flames rose into the ebony night sky. The staff continued to feed the fire, sparks danced and wove into the air as the wood crackled, snapped. By the time Reagan had pulled the last, yummy orange boat filled with marshmallows, chocolate and Grand Marnier for the adults from the fire, satisfied sighs, and murmurs of approval floated around her.

  Clapping, Angela called, “That’s a wrap.”

  After they cleaned the set and cleared the area, Brent walked her back to the sleigh. “That was amazing. You really do know how to pull together great dishes that anyone can learn to make.”

  “I like food to be accessible, easy to prep. A lot of people are intimidated by frou-frou recipes.”

  “I’ll have to make this stuff for my nieces and nephews,” he said as they settled into the sleigh’s seats once more.

  Pain lanced behind her breastbone and her stomach coiled into a massive knot. Pressing her palm against her belly, she scooted away from him. Once more, he reminded her about his family. Something she could never give him. Even more reason to use his original reason to hang out with her, the subterfuge, to drive him out of her mind, her life.

  Snowmobiles roared in the distance while the horses drew the Brent and Reagan back to Eagle Point Ranch. He draped his arm casually around her stiff shoulders, refusing to let her push him away. “Won’t be long before we’re back,” he said. “Relax. Let me do the worrying for you.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “I know,” he said. “Whoever rifled through your cabin and caused the accidents, cut the brake line, is still out there.” No one had surfaced today and, according to his CRUSH contact in New York, Owen Davidson had been seen entering his penthouse in Manhattan. The news had struck the chef off his list of suspects. But that meant Brent didn’t have much left to go on.

  Once they got back to the resort’s main lodge, he’d continue to run background checks and go over the findings Hank’s security experts discovered. Look for more links and connections.

  Her director had checked out. Even now, her entire focus was on the show. The flatbed truck drove behind them at a slow crawl and she directed another scene to splice into the show’s rolling credits before they’d upload the final video to the network.

  Other than the biting wind slapping the sides of the sleigh, nothing seemed out of place. But danger had a way of lurking in the shadows. He heard her teeth clattering. “Here.” He lifted another blanket from the stash placed on the bench seat beside them. “Tuck in.”

  She withdrew from his embrace long enough to fold the additional covering around her upper body. “What will we do if we can’t find the jerk who’s stalking me?”

  How much could he tell her about the secret agency he worked for and closely tied her family was to it? Not much. Not unless the agency’s commander okayed him to do so. “Your brother has contacts in Virginia,” he said after a beat of silence while scanning the surrounding trees for any movement.

  A loud crack sounded. Suddenly, the sleigh listed to the left and the horses continued trotting as the driver called for them to halt.

  “Get down.” He brought Reagan to the floor and, while shielding her body, he withdrew his gun, cocked it to load the first bullet. “Stay here.”

  “Their harness collar snapped,” the driver said, pulling the reins.

  The horses loped ahead as the flatbed truck behind came to a halt, barely missing the back of the sleigh. More shouts, orders to get down sounded from the brotherhood protector guards in the vehicle.

  The sleigh skidded to a stop and the driver twisted around. “I’ll check the chains and riggings,” he said. “But you’ll have to finish this ride back to the ranch in the truck.”

  Another noise, tell-tale buzz of bullets zipping through the pristine night air, sounded. “Fuck the ride back,” Brent called, still covering Reagan’s body. “We’ve got to find the bastard who’s taking pot shots at us.”

  “On it,” one of the men Hank sent called before ordering the rest of the crew to stay low.

  Both Brotherhood Protectors slinked out of the flatbed truck and positioned themselves behind the side, already geared up with infrared goggles and their weapons out.

  Adrenaline shot through him, every muscle ready to spring into action. But his primary mission meant remaining pat. A bullet struck the sleigh’s side. The driver had already dropped and rolled under the now prone sleigh.

  “You packing?” Brent asked the driver.

  “Always. Never know what kind of animal could turn up.”

  “Good. Reagan do exactly as I say. Got it?”


  “Yes.”

  “We crawl together to the edge,” he said. “Hank’s men will give us cover until we can get you to the truck. Once you’re inside, drop to the floorboard and stay there until I give the all clear.”

  “Brent. I’m scared.”

  “You have every right to be afraid, but I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re too important to me.” There, he said it. What she did with the revelation after he caught the bastard attacking them, remained unclear.

  That she didn’t counter his statement or give him a cold shoulder rivaling the frigid mountain air, gave him a measure of hope.

  But first, he had to save her.

  And the Bluetooth hearing devices they used to communicate with the other bodyguards had sketchy connections. The cell towers were unreliable on a good day. The wind had kicked up another storm, clouds billowed overhead, and he could smell the scent of impending snowfall.

  Relying on hand signals, he communicated his plans to the men at the truck. One nodded, tilted his head to the front wheel. Then, with another round of bullets flying around them, he slowly brought Reagan to the sleigh’s exit point. One Brotherhood Protector held the handle to the truck’s passenger door, tilted his head toward the metal frame.

  Brent inhaled a sharp breath, the air misting when he released it. “We crawl over now.”

  “Okay.”

  Her voice trembled, but she held his gaze with confident eyes. As he moved them out of the back, then crawled toward the first man beside the truck, keeping their bodies low to the ground. Overhead, another shot rang, but the extra guards returned fire and slipped the door open.

  “Get in.” Brent covered her back with his, facing outward, his gun ready.

  More shots rang out, pinged on the opposite side of the vehicle as she moved into the vehicle’s cavity. He scoped out a shadow moving in the trees. Whoever had been shooting had help. Before he could call out a warning, he felt the sting of a bullet entering his left thigh just as the door slammed behind him.